


A Trophy of Your Worth

by DragonThistle



Series: A Black Backpack Full of Fireworks [4]
Category: Villainous (Cartoon)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Panic Attacks, Psychological Torture, Torture, Touch Aversion, abuse of phobias
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-17
Updated: 2017-09-14
Packaged: 2018-12-16 12:41:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11828973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonThistle/pseuds/DragonThistle
Summary: Flug Slys was afraid of a great many things in this world; unsafe lab practices, invasion of his personal bubble, Black Hat. But if he had to name one thing that terrified him more than all the others, it would have to be psychics.





	1. The Wrecking Ball

 Flug lay quietly on the cot in his cell, back to the door, eyes lidded as he traced patterns into the wall. They'd stripped the cot of pillows and blankets and left him in nothing but an itchy red jumpsuit. Flug suspected they would have left him in his boxers if they thought they could get way with it.

But they probably didn't like seeing the state of his body.

He grinned when he remembered the horror in their eyes.

They'd let him keep the paper bag and his goggles, but only after they'd seen what happened if they took them away. Flug's knuckles still stung from the blows he'd struck, his fingernails chipped from snagging on clothing, and he could still taste the blood in his mouth. He'd spit a chunk of someone's arm onto the floor and it made one of them throw up. He'd laughed at them.

The idiots had no idea who they were dealing with.

It wasn't the first time--nor would it be the last--that Flug had been kidnapped. Petty heroes and vengeful enthusiasts always tried to find the "weak link" in Black Hat's organization and they always focused on Flug. Apparently they were under the mistaken impression that he was either being forced to work for his otherworldly boss or that his thin shape made him weak. Once in a while, Flug let himself be taken for the sake of getting his hands on more information. Or because he was bored. Once in a great while, someone got the jump on him.

This was one of those times.

Flug supposed he could give them a bit of praise for managing to surprise someone as high-strung as himself. But he had to dock a few points because he had been up for 24 hours and no one can stay sharp under those sort of circumstances. Oh, but this group had been ready for him, ready and waiting when he'd left the mansion grounds on his early morning run. He'd started going to that delicious bakeshop every other day; a bad habit, starting a routine. 5.0.5 would get over the lack of bear claws eventually.

The heavy clunks of the door at the other end of the room brought him back to the present and he listened as the other captives began to get rowdy. There were only six individuals (including himself) being held and only about four of them seemed to be making any noise. Flug ignored them, kept his back to the reinforced, bullet-proof, electrified sheet glass, and waited.

The shouting outside subsided into a dull rumble of discontent and over it, a voice called,

"Dr. Flug! Hey! Up and at 'em! We've got work for you to do."

There was a brief moment of debate where Flug considered antagonizing the speaker by ignoring them, but he didn't feel like being pushed around anymore than he already had. So he rolled over and heaved himself to his feet, glancing up at the visitors. He immediately stiffened and backed up into the corner, throat closing up in what he wanted to deny was fear as he tried to make himself as small as possible.

The person on the other side of the glass sneered at him, "Hello, Doctor. I've been trying to catch you for a long time. Nice to see you're still as cowardly as ever. But this time, there's no Black Hat here for you to hide behind."

Neurotaint.

Flug Slys was afraid of a great many things in this world; unsafe lab practices, invasion of his personal bubble, Black Hat. But if he had to name one thing that terrified him more than all the others, it would have to be psychics. Flug's mind was his last--if only--sanctuary, the most private and important part of himself. And the violation of that space terrified him. Neurotaint was a psychic and a powerful one, a villain who was renowned for using his captive's own minds against them.

They had tried it on Flug once before, when they had foolishly attempted to invade Black Hat Inc. It was only by the grace of his employer that Flug had gotten out alive and unharmed. He had thought Neurotaint and their lackeys had fled in terror to lick their wounds or lay down and die.

Apparently not.

Flug heard the electricity of the glass wall power down with a buzz and flattened himself into the corner. The wall lowered, the last barrier between himself and Neurotaint falling away, and Flug panicked. He dove to the floor and scrambled beneath the cot, his former cool lost under the wave of terror that came with the knowledge of what Neurotatin could do.

He heard laughter, cruel and cold. Thudding footsteps made him squirm as far under the cot as he could. He could barely fit under the thing, bolted to the floor as it was, but that didn't stop him from trying to curl into the smallest ball possible. Flug had nothing to defend himself with; no knives, no tools, no weapons, not the physical strength or stamina to fight back. He was vulnerable and helpless. And underneath the fear and panic, it disgusted him.

Something closed around his ankle and he kicked out on reflex, scraping his toes on the underside of the cot. He slammed his heel into the back of Neurotaint's hand but it wasn't enough to deter the other villain. With a sharp yank, Flug was pulled halfway out from underneath the cot, his legs kicking as he struggled to get away. He curled his fingers into the wire mesh comprising the bottom of the bed and tried to lever himself back under it. But Neurotaint was having none of it; they pulled again and Flug winced as the wire bit into his fingers. He kept kicking with his free leg until he felt it connect with something soft and Neurotaint let out a yelp of pain, releasing Flug to clutch at whatever injury the inventor had inflicted. Flug hoped it was that bastard's eye.

He was scrambling back under the cover of the bed, frantically trying to figure out an escape plan, trying to sort through his fear and panic, when he felt something slimy smear across his thoughts. He gagged, a bitter taste of bile rising in his throat, and clutched at the paper bag on his head as though it would keep the intruder out. Neurotaint was laughing at his efforts and Flug felt another tendril of thoughts that were not his coil into his mind. Something came unhinged and Flug felt his body go slack. His muscles would not respond, even a finger twitch was impossible. His heart still pounded painfully against his ribs, his breathing was still erratic and wild and panicked, and he could still blink behind his goggles. But he could not move. He was well and truly helpless, a prisoner in his own body, unable to do anything to get away. Tears welled into his eyes and he furiously blinked them away. Only one person these days got to see him cry and he'd be damned if he showed anymore weakness to the bastard villain who had captured him.

Neurotaint grabbed Flug and hauled him out from under the bed. The only thing that kept the bag on Flug's head were his goggles but they were dislodged and Flug felt the crisp air bite at his chin and mouth as the paper crinkled up around his ears. He couldn't see Neurotaint but he knew they were sneering at him, he could feel their eyes on him and it made his exposed skin prickle and itch. He wanted to writhe and claw and hide, peel away the layer of flesh that had been tainted by contact with _outside_. Neurotaint laughed, wicked and sharp and high,

"I always wondered why you covered up so much, Flug Bug. I had no idea you were so...touch repulsed."

Flug felt the pad of a bare finger slide down his neck, tracing the edge of his adam's apple, and he swallowed his revulsion. Goosebumps erupted across his skin and hot rage boiled in his stomach. Neurotaint laughed again and grabbed a fistful of the jumpsuit, hoisting Flug off the floor and dragging him out of the cell. Flug growled at the man handling, the most he could do with his body unresponsive to his requests to cuss and scream and snarl. The villain carrying him jostled him roughly and Flug's goggles slid off his head and onto the floor, taking the paper bag with them. Flug could only watch in horror and despair as they got farther and farther away until they were out of sight when the heavy door to the containment room slammed closed.


	2. The Awful Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Black Hat was the one exception. Black Hat would always be the exception.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have a lot of different fun ideas for What’s Under Flug’s Bag™. But for the sake of this fic/series, I’m just going to leave him human. An extremely touch averse human who might have anxiety and avpd, but is still human.

Flug was no fool.

A nervous wreck and sometimes a coward, maybe, but no fool.

He knew Neurotaint was brutal and cruel villain who would do anything to get their way. Whereas Black Hat could be cruel, yes, he was also manipulative, clever, even charismatic when he wanted to be. Black Hat had learned a long time ago that he could more out of people with a gentle hand than a swinging claw. Neurotaint was too arrogant to learn or even understand that concept, it seemed.

They had been torturing Flug for what the inventor estimated to be about three hours without rest. Honestly, it wasn’t the  _worst_  thing Flug had experienced but he wasn’t too keen on it carrying on, either. Nor was he keen on building the device Neurotaint was trying to get him to build. Still, having his own body attack him was an unpleasant and terrifying experience. While Neurotait could stop and start a person’s motor functions as they pleased, they could not control them. They could make Flug’s muscles spasm painfully, but they could not make him move his arms to build what they desired. They could make him hallucinate, see awful, wicked, horrifying things, but they could not make him work for them. And Flug tried to find solace in that fact.

Which was hard to do when Neurotaint had told Flug’s brain to stop making his lungs work. Flug writhed in the chair he was strapped into, mouth gaping, eyes bulging, drool smearing down his face as he tried to breathe. His vision was splintered with tears and his ears were ringing. He had to breathe! He needed air or he was going to die! He needed to breathe! He needed—

His chest expanded and he heaved in that sweet, sweet oxygen. His chest ached, his throat felt raw, and his entire body was shaking with pain and exhaustion. Tears and spittle dripped unashamedly down his chin, sweat darkening the back and collar of the red jumpsuit as he finally slumped against the back of the chair. His head was spinning, his entire being drained and tired and sore.

“This is getting me nowhere.”

Flug glanced up tiredly though matted strands of hair dangling in his face. Neurotaint was glaring at him, their expression twisted by temper and frustration. If Flug had had the energy, he might have ventured an antagonizing chuckle. As it was, he simply watched.

“You’re more than I bargained for, Dr. Flug, I’ll give you that. But I guess you have to be tough to work for a scumbag like Black Hat.”

The words tumbled out before he could stop them,

“Black Hat’s five times the villain that you’ll ever be.”

He had time to feel a small twinge of regret before his stomach clenched and he was throwing up its contents. Bile and spit streamed from his nose and mouth as he heaved into his lap, lurching against the confines of the chair. Flug was still recovering, gasping for air, when a hand clamped over his mouth, fingers digging into his cheeks, yanking him forward so he was eye to eye with the insulted villain before him.

“At least I am a villain,” Neurotaint snarled as Flug helplessly tried to pull away, nerves blistering at the sensation of another’s touch, “You’re nothing but a wanna-be grunt! A _freak_! How about you dwell on that for a while, _doctor_. I’ll be back in the morning to see if you’re more willing to cooperate.”

Neurotaint slammed Flug back against the chair hard enough to make the scientist’s ears ring and stomped out of the room, shouting at some of their minions to clean the place up. Flug, for his part, sagged against the restraints, shivering, chest heaving, eyes closed as he struggled not to have a panic attack. He’d been violated, forced to suffer his own body’s betrayal. And as if that weren’t enough, Neurotaint had had the gall to _touch him_.

Flug couldn’t help himself. He choked, a hiccup catching on the raw burn of stomach acid in his throat. His eyes stung and he pressed the back of his head against the chair, teeth clenched, fingernails scraping against the armrests. Flug almost wanted to give in just to avoid having the villain touch him again. Demencia violated his personal space all the time but she would never, ever touch his bare skin without express permission. She’d done it once, when they first met, and Flug had taken that opportunity to teach her that she should _never do it again_. 

Black Hat was the one exception. 

Black Hat would always be the exception.

****

Flug had never been so humiliated in his life.

Sure, his boss mocked him and teased him and generally walked all over him. But Black Hat would never, ever treat him like this, not like Neurotaint was treating him.

The villain had set Flug’s nerves on fire with pain, had cramped his organs until tears streamed down his face, had even gone so far as to have Flug soil himself. The inventor was humiliated and furious and hurt. And scared.

He’d lost track of time but his best guess was that he’d been in Neurotaint’s custody for at least twelve hours, maybe more. He was hungry and exhausted and his escape plan wasn’t going as quickly as he wanted. Flug had no clues as to what Neurotaint planned to do once they finally gave up on torture and he didn’t really want to find out. He also had no illusions about agreeing to Neurotaint’s commands and then trying to escape; if anything, such a move would only get him trapped even more than he already was. He was employed to a villain, he knew how these things worked.

On the other hand, if he didn’t do what his captor wanted, things would only get worse.

Flug was bent double in the chair, the strap on his midriff digging into his flesh as he gnawed on the strap on his left wrist. The skin was scraped and chaffed and tender, his lips were chapped and raw, and his jaw ached but it was, currently, his only option. He sank his teeth into the leathery material and jerked back as hard as he could. There was a small amount of give and he bit down again, twisting his head to get more leverage. He was rewarded with a slightly bigger tear and the jangle of the strap’s buckle.

Heart pounding in his chest, Flug straightened up and wormed his hand out of the strap. It skinned his knuckles and the buckle tore into his wrist but it did little to slow him down. He paid his injuries no mind as he undid the remaining straps binding him to that foul chair. Then, with shaking limbs, Flug hauled himself up, stumbled, and quickly looked around for an escape.

Or, even better, a weapon.


	3. The Exit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Panic flooded his chest, pooling in his lungs and driving painful nails into his muscles, static buzzing in his brain and whiting out his thoughts.

Neurotaint’s base was in an uproar and, despite the soreness in his body, Flug couldn’t help but be amused by their chaos. They were unorganized and tripping over themselves as they tried to comply with Neurotaint’s bellowed orders. How these blundering idiots had ever managed to kidnap him was a mystery.

Then again, Flug wasn’t exactly playing fair.

He was currently hunched over the control grid for the entire base, flicking switches, pressing buttons, overloading circuits, freeing prisoners, and generally making a mess. He was also using the security feed to look for an ideal exit. A fire escape or garbage shoot, maybe. The emergency exit in the nearby employee break room looked promising. Satisfied with the route he had planned, Flug yanked out some wires and pressed a few buttons until the system overloaded and shut down with a heavy whirr of dying machinery.

Dusting his hands off, Flug turned towards the door, only to stop and grimace in disgust as his bare foot landed in something lukewarm and damp. The puddle of blood from one of the dead security guards had spread across the floor. Flug danced around it, leaving a crimson footprint in his wake, until he wiped it off on the dead man’s pant leg. Before he left the room, he yanked open the lockers but found little of us besides a worn out baseball cap and a jacket with a monster on it. No shoes. He’d have to make due, then.

The jacket swallowed him, the hem nearly reaching to his knees, but it would do. He pulled the hat down low over his mismatched eyes, zipped the jacket up to his chin, and liberated one of the pistols from the bleeding guard nearby. Then he turned and jogged out the door.

****

Even though the distance was a short one—Flug estimated at least 200 yards or so—it was a dangerous one. He was weak and tired, his body bruised and beaten, and his own fear sent blistering waves of nausea rolling through his empty and cramping stomach.

The entire base was on high alert. Every member of Neurotaint’s team was out in force, either securing the escaped prisoners or on the hunt for Flug. Which was his biggest problem since he still didn’t have anything but a pocket knife to defend himself with. And while that was all well and good for two unprepared, low ranking security guards, it would do little against armed-to-the-teeth forces.

It was a little easier to slink through the shadows when half the lights were powered down but Flug knew the system wouldn’t stay fried forever and it was only a matter of time before someone got it working again. The floor was cold under his bare feet and his legs shook as he hurried down the halls. He needed to get out of here before he collapsed.

“Hey! Hey! Oh forty-five in the East Hall by the break room! I found him!”

Flug swore and shot a glance over his shoulder to see a guard yanking a gun from their holster. All pretense of sneaking around left him in a rush of terror and adrenaline. Panic flooded his chest, pooling in his lungs and driving painful nails into his muscles, static buzzing in his brain and whiting out his thoughts. He ran down the hall, yelping when the gun cracked and shattered against the wall nearby. He could see the employee break room door coming into view and he let out a breathless, slightly manic chuckle of hope within his reach.

Then the door opened and another one of Neurotaint’s minions came into the hall, clipping a radio to his shoulder. He froze when he saw Flug but reacted quickly enough. Instead of reaching for his gun, he charged at the escaping inventor.

In his panic and desire to escape, he did the only thing he could think of. Which was charge right back at the guard, knife pointed out and braced against the palm of his other hand. The guard saw and swerved, bringing an arm out to grab at Flug and probably take him down. Flug ducked instinctively and swung up with the pocket knife. The blade snagged on the edge of the guard’s hand, tearing the skin and spilling red that splattered across the side of Flug’s stolen jacket.

It wasn’t much, but it was enough.

Flug dodged past the guard, dived into the break room, and made a beeline for the emergency exit at the back. He knocked over chairs and shoved the tables around when he could, tripping over his own feet, and slamming into the crash bar with enough force to nearly drive the air from his lungs. He was making so much noise, he didn’t hear the guards following him into the room.

But he heard the gun fire.

And he felt the bullet sting into his leg.

****

Black Hat was in his office, sorting through the last of the recent commissions and orders with all the laziness of someone who felt they had better things to do. He was puffing away on a cigar that was unleashing an unusually thick cloud of black smoke into the air to curl like a storm cloud on the ceiling. It boiled overhead, stinking of charred brick and hot metal, displaying the frustration that the villain himself refused to show. Black Hat had a reputation to keep up, after all, it wouldn’t do to be so liberal with his emotional state. At the very least, he needed to appear calm and collected while his employees ran rampant through his mansion.

Or rather, while Demencia ran wild and 5.0.5 tried helplessly to wrangle her.

Where the devil was his inventor? Flug always had a way of distracting Demencia or cowing her enough that there would be some peace and quiet around the house.

Right on cue there was a high pitched squeal of laughter and an almighty crash from somewhere on the lower floors. Black Hat ground his sharp teeth into his cigar, glaring at the paperwork in his hands. Useless idiots, the lot of them.

Another bang from downstairs, followed by muffled shouting and then a worrying amount of silence.

Black Hat was about to rise from his chair to investigate when his office doors opened and a figure strode in. Or rather, hobbled in. Black Hat could smell the blood. And he immediately knew who’s it was.

Flug limped forward, head hanging, hair matted to his forehead by sweat and sea water, and leaving a trail of dirt and satan only knew what else across the carpet. An oversized jacket clung to his bony frame, dripping slightly, and he was bare foot and bagless.

“S-sorry for reporting in s-so late, sir,” The inventor panted, bracing one hand on his boss’s desk. Black Hat picked out the tell tale signs of restraint markings on t he man’s wrists, “I got—got held up on the mainland. Stole a, uh, a b-boat to get—to get back.”

“What were you doing on the mainland, Flug?” Black Hat’s voice was crisp and hard and Flug shrank under its tone.

“J-just Neurotaint, sir, n-nothing to be concerned about.”

Black Hat said nothing for a long moment and Flug’s mismatched eyes darted up to search his boss’s face. It gave away nothing and he dropped his gaze quickly.

“Clean yourself up,” The villain ordered and Flug jumped at the sound of his voice, “And then rest. You’ll need it.” Black Hat stood and walked around the desk, grabbing the inventor’s shoulder and steering him out into the hall where 5.0.5 was fretting, “Take care of him.”

The bear whimpered, gently supporting Flug as the scientist swayed on his feet.

Black Hat turned on his heel, coat swirling around him, lips peeling back to show his needle sharp teeth,

“I’m going out.”


	4. The Long Walk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The lab was safe. The manor was safe. He was safe.

Flug woke up in a bed and had a very brief moment of panic before he realized it was  _his_  bed. In his room. At the Black Hat mansion.

He was…well, maybe safe wasn’t the best word. But he was home.

Something wrenched inside the inventor when the thought crossed his mind, a nail driving through his chest and into his heart. This place was his home.

Rubbing angrily at his burning eyes, Flug pulled himself into a sitting position and squinted at the plane shaped clock on his bedside stand. It was off. Probably unplugged, by the looks of things. His black out curtains were drawn across the windows so the room was dark, almost too dark to see. The only light came from a soft glow seeping in through the crack under his bedroom door. It looked dull and yellow; probably sunlight coming through the hallway windows if he had to guess.

He wondered how long he’d been out.

A quick assessment said he’d been cleaned up, his injuries dressed, and that garish jumpsuit was gone. It had been replaced with an oversized sleep shirt, something soft, well worn, and faded neon green. One of Demencia’s then. It made sense as Flug didn’t have any sleepwear of his own.

He swung his legs out of bed, wincing at the twinges of pain splintering through his sore body, and heaved himself up.

He’d never been one for bedrest.

****

The door opened as Flug was adjusting his goggles over the trademark paper bag. He looked up as he pulled the bag down over his chin and smiled at the blue bear poking their head into the room.

“5.0.5! Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes! Did you patch me up?”

The bear nodded, shuffling into the room and looking greatly relieved to see the inventor up and about. They hesitated and then reached out to pluck at the sleeve of Flug’s t-shirt. Flug huffed out a small sigh and held out his arms. 5.0.5 squealed and picked the scientist up in a surprisingly gentle hug, purring and snuffling and nuzzling the side of Flug’s paper bag.

“All right, all right, that’s enough, set me down.” The bear did so and beamed, clearly in a much better mood now that Flug was back home and on his feet again.

“Flugster!”

A blur of eye strain green plowed into Flug and sent him crashing to the floor with a cry of pain. And a rather brutal punch into the abdomen of the writhing lizard-girl on top of him. When she refused to let go, he punched her again, twisted, and used her own weight against her to flip her off of him. She banged into his dresser and bounced to her feet with a wide grin as 5.0.5 helped Flug rise from the floor.

“Do you  _mind_ ,” The inventor spat, glowering at Demencia as she bounced on the spot, “I’m still healing! What if you’d torn something open again!? I have work to catch up on!”

“You were only gone for fifteen hours this time!” Demencia completely ignored Flug’s scolding, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet, “That’s your, mm, third fastest time! What took you so long, huh?”

Flug scowled, readjusting his bag and straightening his back. There was a dull ache thrumming through his body that he stubbornly ignored, “It was just Neurotaint and their crew. Tried to torture me into making some kind of amplification device for them. Stupid. What a minor league villain.”

“Yeah, but  _you_  still got captured by them!” The look that Flug shot her could have melted the flesh off a deer but Demencia just giggled, showing her jagged teeth, “Oh yeah! Black Hat wants to see you in the lab! Said something about work…”

Flug sputtered helplessly, flapping his hands at the girl as she laughed at his flustered anger. Words failing him, Flug threw his hands in the air with an angry noise and stomped past 5.0.5 towards the door, fists clenched.

“Hey Flug.”

He glanced back to see Demencia leaning on 5.0.5, her smile thin and not reaching her eyes, “You’re okay, right? Like, you kicked their asses, right?”

The bubbling frustration in his chest uncoiled and he sighed, hot air fluttering the protective barrier of his bag,

“Yeah, Dem, I’m…I’ll be fine.”

****

The lab was familiar and cool and bright and Flug relaxed the instant he set foot in the large space. Only half the lights are on—a welcome relief to the soft throb of a headache behind his eyes—and the lab was like an empty office building on the weekend; long and deep shadows with edges standing out harsh and bright. He sucked in a deep breath, enjoying the icy, sharp, chemically sterile taste of his most comfortable space as it snapped in his lungs, prickling against his aching ribs.

The lab was safe. The manor was safe. He was safe.

It wasn’t hard to spot his boss standing amongst the white and steel of the lab. Black Hat’s back was to the main lab door, leaning on his cane and idly sifting through the files Flug had left on a desk amongst scattered lab equipment. He didn’t look around when Flug entered, like he didn’t even notice. But Flug knew better; Black Hat was aware of everything that went on in the manor. Still, the villain didn’t turn as Flug limped closer, favoring his undamaged leg. Gooseflesh tickled across his bare arms, naked of his gloves or usual lab coat.

“Sir, you wanted to see me?”

It was only when he was addressed that Black Hat turned to face his battered employee. Flug expected to see frustration, impatience, and disgust on his boss’s face. Instead, he was greeted with a calm sort of blankness. Black Hat beckoned him closer,

“I see you’ve recovered well enough.”

“The injuries were minor, sir, I should be completely healed in a matter of days.”

“Good. Because we have work to do. Follow me.”

Flug didn’t ask questions, just followed his boss across the lab to the side door that led to Flug’s collection of lab rats. Flug instantly suspected what was going on but he kept his mouth shut. That didn’t stop the excitement from bubbling up in his chest, putting a slight spring in his hobbling step. It almost made him forget about how much his body hated him for moving right now.

“I hope you appreciate the effort I went through to clean up this mess, doctor,” Black Hat’s words were cold and impersonal but there was a ghost of a smile on his face as he opened a door at the end of the hall, “You should have taken care of it yourself. I’m disappointed in you. But I’ll let it slide just this once if you make it up to me.” The villain pushed the door open and let the grin spread across his face, showing all his acid stained teeth, “With a display of just what you went through at the hands of that mediocre wanna-be.”

Neurotaint was writhing and struggling in their bonds on the equivalent of a dentist’s chair. They froze when the door creaked open, gaze darting from Black Hat to Flug. Then they bucked angrily against their restraints, panic swirling in their eyes as they tried to pull away. Flug saw the tell-tale shimmer of a dampening field around the room and felt a twinge of smugness that his boss was using his inventions to keep a hostage—sorry, test subject—properly subdued.

Flug limped into the room, back straight and far more confident than he ever had been in Neurotaint’s presence before. And the other villain noticed. They also noticed when Flug dragged over a stainless steel cart stacked with an assortment of tools, none of which looked at all friendly. Neurotaint’s frantic gaze darted from the cart, to Flug, to Black Hat, back to the cart, and then to Flug again. Their eyes begged, pleaded, apologized. Flug just stared at them, calm, expressionless.

“Well?” Black Hat’s voice rumbled, brushing aside the silence like a curtain.

“The thing is, sir,” Flug was speaking carefully, never taking his eyes off Neurotaint, practically drinking in the villain’s terror, “It was an awful lot of torture. I’m afraid I’m not sure exactly what Neurotaint did to me. It’s…hazy.” The inventor’s eyes finally flitted away from his captive to alight upon his wonderful array of toys. His fingertips skimmed over the handle of something vaguely drill shaped and wicked looking, “I may have to try a few things to jog my memory.”

Black Hat’s grin was delicious and just as sharp as the instruments under Flug’s hands,

“Take all the time you need, doctor. Take all the time you need…”


End file.
